


Do You Wish to Fear Me Without the Mask?

by dadsBBQparty



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-02-13 05:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dadsBBQparty/pseuds/dadsBBQparty
Summary: Something about him drew Bruce closer. Maybe it was those icy blue eyes or his sarcastic compliments. Never before had he believed that he would be this drawn to a man that his other persona fought to take down. Well, Bruce Wayne didn't need to keep Batman's rivalries.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been something I've been working on in between homework assignments.  
> I'll update the tags as I update the chapters.

“Send him in. I have a spare minute.” 

Agreeing to meet with someone from Arkham wasn’t exactly Bruce’s favorite thing to do in his spare time, but part of his mind could hear his parent's chastising voices. Improving Gotham was their main goal. If he turned down a voice he could hear in order to improve it, even for those who could be considered wicked, he feared his parents would be rolling in their graves. 

“I understand you’re looking for funding towards a program in… Arkham?” he spoke as a slender, pale gentleman opened the door to his office. He watched as the man nodded his head, approaching the chair across from Bruce. His hazel eyes followed the man as he set a briefcase on his table, tongue nervously gliding across his lips. 

“Yes,” he spoke softly. His voice was small, as if he was trying to emphasize that he was talking to Bruce and only Bruce, despite the fact they were alone in the room. “I recognize that it’s not Wayne Enterprises’ responsibility to fund anything that has to do with the prisoners in Arkham, but our resources have been cut drastically. People are pulling out of sponsoring our work after some incidents with the inmates-” 

“You mean the frequent escapes,” Bruce dared.

The man’s lips pursed at the comment. Apparently, it was a touchy subject. “... Yes, because of the frequent escapes. Although, to Arkham’s defense, our budget is very low. We’re running out of the ability to make the Asylum strong enough to hold these people.”

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should have kept your eye on these people. What do you do?” 

“I am the Chief Administrator of Arkham,” he answered, picking his head up as if he was being interrogated. “I am working with the prisoners, and I’m trying to _help_ them.”

“I don’t think you’re doing a very good job,” Bruce retorted, letting out a laugh as he leaned back against his chair. He told himself he’d hear him out. He didn’t say he wouldn’t poke fun at the shottiness of the Asylum.

“I don’t think I am with this sort of budget _either_ ,” the other man said, slipping his glasses back on and narrowing his blue eyes in his direction. “I don’t believe you understand what I’m saying, Mr. Wayne. I want to rehabilitate these people, and I’m one of the best in my field. I want fundings to help these people return to their everyday lifestyle, let that be therapy, medication, or other means.” 

“Do you blame them?” Bruce asked, furrowing his brow slightly.

 

“Blame them for their behavior?” he responded, clarifying the question. “No… I don’t. Perhaps this city is even making me mad… You wouldn’t understand what sort of issues I have to handle on a day to day basis. There’s something wrong with the city, and many of these people are merely a _symptom_ of the issue. I find that my work finds a priority in my life, or I may find myself going mad like so many of these people.” 

“It sounds as if you’re trying to reason with yourself,” Bruce smiled. 

“That may be,” the other man said, returning the smile. 

“I don’t want to agree to increasing your funding merely from this conversation,” Bruce explained softly, returning to the issue at hand. “Give me your plan, and I’ll read it through on my own later on.”

“Of course,” the man said, nodding his head slightly as he opened up his briefcase. He scrambled through documents until he found the one that Bruce had asked for, handing it to him when he found it. It wasn’t as if he was the one who Bruce should be talking to about numbers either, it wasn’t his field. Bruce took the document and placed it in front of him, glancing over it before he looked back up at the man across from him. 

“My name is _Doctor Jonathan Crane_ , by the way. It comes to my attention that I never appropriately introduced myself,” he said, extending a hand out across the table. “We went straight to business.” 

“Bruce Wayne,” the billionaire responded despite the fact that he knew Jonathan was fully aware of who he was. He took his hand in his, his eyes darting to the skinny man’s face.

“... Would you like to have lunch with me?” Bruce asked him. 

“Right now?” Jonathan responded, his brow furrowing. 

“If you don’t have any plans currently,” Bruce replied, feeling the way Jonathan’s grip on his hand briefly tightened. 

“No… I came here with the intention I’d be speaking with you for a while,” Jonathan answered quietly. He was more than obviously confused by the proposition. Bruce could tell that the man across from him had had a guard up until moments before. His eyes were darting around, and his tongue was gliding over his lips as if they were too dry. 

“I won’t take up much of your time. Let’s shoot for an hour,” Bruce said, finally pulling his hand away from Jonathan’s and watching the color fade away. He stood up, walking towards the door. Jonathan closed his briefcase and picked it off the table, rushing to meet with Bruce to join him to the door. 

Being the Prince of Gotham- Jonathan wasn’t surprised that Bruce insisted on driving his Lamborghini. Sitting beside him in the car, his eyes glued on the wheel. The radio wasn’t on at that moment, for neither of them wanted to touch it quite yet. 

“Do you drive… Crane?” Bruce asked him softly. 

Jonathan pursed his lips at the lack of the title of ‘doctor’. It wasn’t as if he worked for that PhD for nothing. “Yes,” he answered, his guard returning to its rightful place. “I don’t have a car at the moment, but I typically drive stick shift.” 

Bruce understood he was jiving towards him. Ah, he knew this man would have a quick tongue. He let out a small laugh. “You wish this car was a stick?”

“It takes more skill to drive a stick shift,” Jonathan jeered. 

Bruce nodded his head, smiling at the comment. Sure, Jonathan was being a pain the ass, but thankfully he was more than tolerant of pains. “Why don’t you have a car at the moment?” he asked. 

“The cost,” Jonathan replied. “I know it’s not a concern to you, but the taxes in Gotham are too high to own a car, and the gas, the insurance, and-” He shook his head at himself. “I’ll just take the bus instead.” 

There wasn’t a debate that the pay at Arkham wasn’t great. Bruce had known of Jonathan Crane’s name around the asylum, although he didn’t know the details. Bruce had never been a fan of Arkham, nor had he very much enjoyed the employees there. The attitude that Jonathan was sneering at him almost reinforced those thoughts. Understaffed, expensive, and no one at the asylum did very well at their job. He was unsure if Jonathan was an exception to this… Although, he was extremely curious about a man with such a high position in Arkham. 

“You have no intention to donate any money towards Arkham, do you?” Jonathan asked softly. 

Bruce pursed his lips. “I’m not taking you to lunch to discuss work,” he answered. 

“I realize that, but I’m not stupid,” Jonathan sighed. 

“No, I have no intention to give money to Arkham…” Bruce answered honestly. “Nobody has ever actually left Arkham fully recovered and-” 

“Many of the inmates aren’t insane, I understand,” Jonathan muttered. “There have been more and more people coming into the Asylum, also, with the rise of The Bat-Man. I don’t think The Bat-Man understands so many of these people just need to go to prison.” Drug users, petty misdemeanors… It was overcrowding. The more people were there, the more people to witness his experiments. He saw the irony in his own work. Fighting to move Falcone’s men to his supervision yet whining that too many people were being moved to Arkham. 

“You don’t sound very fond of your job,” Bruce commented. 

He wished he could have kept his job as a professor, but he did enjoy the luxuries he had at Arkham. More people turned a blind eye to the condition of prisoners, and the more he spoke out against the mistreatment of inmates, the more people would ignore his own actions. “I enjoy my position,” he spoke. 

“Clearly,” Bruce said. 

“Why did you ask me out?” Jonathan finally asked, his blue eyes drilling into Bruce’s skull. “If you had no intention on giving me money, I don’t why you want me to go to lunch with you.”

“Maybe I think you’re attractive?” Bruce suggested, smiling as the doctor beside him turned wide eyed and red. At least that shut him up for a few minutes. 

It wasn’t very long until they reached underground parking. It was an area that Jonathan didn’t recognize, but he assumed that the spoiled lifestyle that Bruce was able to live was going to make that situation happen more than he liked. He pulled out of the car, standing beside Bruce as they walked towards the stairs. 

“Why don’t we try to get to know each other a little better outside of our professions?” Bruce suggested once they were seated. The restaurant was sickeningly expensive. Jonathan found himself hesitant to even open up the menu to see how much an appetizer would cost. Bruce must have been taunting him. There was no way he wouldn’t know the average salary of someone at Arkham. 

“What do you want to know?” Jonathan asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how much I’ll be getting to know of you if you’re so shallow to ask me here when you so obviously despise my profession.” 

“I may despise Arkham, but that doesn’t mean I despise you at all, _Doctor_ Crane,” Bruce said softly, resting his arm on the table. Even Jonathan knew enough that that gesture was in poor taste in such an expensive restaurant. He’d been at a wide range of expensive restaurants throughout his life, but he knew that every time it happened to be a power move.

Jonathan was feeling silly. Wearing an ill-fitting suit, unprepared for such an event, and now he had to deal with the knowledge that this was a _date_ with Bruce Wayne. He picked up the water that was in front of him and gently brought it to his lips. 

“What is it about me that interests you, Mr. Wayne?” Jonathan asked him softly. 

Bruce furrowed his brow at the question. Perhaps this couldn’t be a normal lunch. “Am I not allowed to take an interest in someone?” he asked him. 

“Not within reason, no,” Jonathan argued. 

Bruce let out a moan at the comment, his brow furrowing as he debated how he should answer. “... There’s just something about you… Perhaps it’s your passion… or your eyes. I find you very attractive.” 

“You sound foolish,” Jonathan whispered, bringing a hand to his face to ‘skillfully’ hide his reddening cheeks. “Is this the standard Wayne treatment?”

“Do you want the standard Wayne treatment?” Bruce retorted, to which Jonathan shook his head slightly. “Are you not interested in me at all?” 

“Are you going to give me any funding if I sleep with you?” Jonathan asked, cocking his head slightly as he composed himself. Bruce shook his head, and soon the other man mimicked his gesture. “Then no. I’m not interested in you at all.” 

Bruce laughed at the reply. “Shame,” he muttered. “Because I certainly have an interest in you.” 

Jonathan turned his head as he saw the waiter walking towards them. He let out a sigh, as he hadn’t even glanced at the menu yet. “Please just order something for me. I have no qualms as long as it’s vegetarian.” 

“So, you’re a vegetarian?” Bruce whispered. Jonathan merely ignored the comment. As the waiter came back, Bruce did as Jonathan asked. 

“You’re sickening,” Jonathan whispered under his breath as the waiter began to walk away. 

“You meant for me to hear that, correct?” Bruce asked. 

“Of course,” he said. “Flaunting your authority. It’s sickening.”

Bruce smiled at him. “It’s always nice to meet a fan.”

Jonathan scoffed, smirking in his direction at the joke. “I could say the same thing.” 

“Au contraire,” Bruce sighed. “You misunderstand me. I’m quite the fan of you.” 

“I never thought I unleashed such toxic chemicals onto you,” Jonathan laughed, surprising Bruce. Had he finally been lightening up?

“Deadly,” Bruce agreed. 

Bruce could deduct that Jonathan had a sense of humor. Albeit, a nasty one. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t a fan of a little dark humor. He often grew tiresome of the polite conversations in parties. Something about this man reminded him of his other side. A connection he longed for. It was the same jiving and sneering he received during the night. 

… Perhaps he should do a background check on this man. 

“Mr. Wayne?” Jonathan asked softly. 

“Hm?” 

Jonathan shook his head slightly before sighing. “I’m uncertain what to even say to you if I’m not allowed to speak of my work,” he said, folding his arms. 

“Do you enjoy movies?” Bruce asked, thinking of a topic they could discuss. 

“Who wouldn’t?” Jonathan asked, furrowing his brow. “Horror movies, to be precise.” 

“Ah, I’m not surprised,” Bruce said with a grin. 

“And yourself?” he asked him in reply. 

Bruce thought for a moment before answering, “If I had to choose a favorite, I believe it’d be sci-fi.” 

“I’m not surprised,” Jonathan replied, forcing back a smile. 

“Listen,” Bruce said, placing his hands on the table. “I’ll propose something. Something you’re actually interested in. Would you enjoy it at all to watch a horror movie with me?” 

“So you admit it was a flop to bring me here, now?” Jonathan questioned, raising both brows. 

“Yes,” Bruce said, an uncertain smile waning on his lips. “But, I didn’t know a thing about you besides your profession before a few minutes ago. Now I know you prefer stick shifts, you’re a vegetarian, and you apparently love horror movies,” he said. “What time do you get off of work after your lunch break?” 

“I typically go home at six,” Jonathan answered. 

“I’ll pick you up at six thirty tonight for dinner. A vegetarian meal at my home, and we can watch a movie,” Bruce suggested. 

Jonathan’s face fell slightly at the proposition. He swallowed hard, his eyes shifting away from him. 

“... Okay,” he said softly. 

“Is it really alright by you?” Bruce asked hesitantly. 

“Yes,” Jonathan answered. “That’s fine by me… As long as you behave as a gentleman when it’s only the two of us, I will agree to that.” 

The billionaire grinned in response to Jonathan’s words and nodded his head slightly. “Very well. Give me your address, and I’ll pick you up at six thirty tonight.” 

Jonathan nodded his head slightly, pulling his briefcase onto his lap and pulling out a pen and paper. He scribbled something down on it, folded it, and handed it to Bruce across the table before he set the briefcase back down. Bruce took the paper and unfolded it, his eyebrows lifting at what he read. 

“So it’s true that geniuses have terrible handwriting,” he muttered. 

Jonathan laughed softly, shaking his head at the comment. He refused to deny or confirm that statement. 

Somehow, they both survived lunch without either of them causing a scene. Jonathan stayed rather quiet after he agreed to see Bruce later that night, but both of them assumed that was going to be fine. 

At exactly six thirty, Bruce was parked outside Jonathan’s apartment building. He was standing outside his Jaguar, his hazel eyes stuck on the watch on his wrist. It was easy for Jonathan to spot him from the window.

Jonathan sighed, quickly gathering his things and slipping down the stairs and out the door. He approached Bruce with his lips pursed, glancing up at him. 

“You’re going to get the shit beat out of you in this neighborhood,” he muttered as Bruce opened the passenger’s seat. 

“I can handle myself,” Bruce disagreed, closing the door after Jonathan was safely inside his car. He sat in the driver’s seat and started the car. 

“A stickshift this time,” Jonathan whispered. “You are such a show off, Mr. Wayne.” 

“I think Bruce will do it,” he said softly, starting to drive the car. 

“You’re such a show off, _Bruce_ ,” Jonathan corrected.

Once at his manor, Jonathan agreed that they could eat while they watched the movie. The thought of being in one of his dining halls with only the two of them there was unsettling once he saw the size of the manor. 

“Master Wayne,” Alfred said, pulling Bruce away from Jonathan momentarily as the other man tried to find himself situated in the space of his livingroom. Alfred closed the door after them, pulling Bruce a ways away. “You introduced that man as Jonathan Crane, did you not? I believe that’s the same man that’s been interviewed on the news about Arkham Asylum.” 

Bruce nodded slightly, leaning against a side table in the hall. “That’s him…” 

“You’re bringing a man who works so closely with the criminals at Arkham here?” Alfred whispered. 

“I don’t see the issue,” Bruce said in reply, although Alfred could tell there was now hesitance in his eyes. “We’re not talking work… I asked him here on a date.”

“I could tell it wasn’t for work. You do learn to pick up on things at my age,” Alfred sighed. “I’ll compromise with you, Master Wayne. Enjoy your time with him, and I’m going to do a background check on him while you do that. Please refrain from speaking of anything of importance. There’s something about that man that makes me worry.” 

Bruce sighed softly. He couldn’t say he was surprised by this. Something about Jonathan’s personality had struck him as someone he’d have to work against. “I’m not changing my plans of the evening,” he told him. 

“Very well,” Alfred said with a small smile. “I won’t bother you with my findings until he leaves, because I trust you can keep your secrets around him. I’ll bring dinner to you both quite soon, then I’ll refrain from bothering you the rest of the night.” 

“Thank you,” Bruce said. “... Do a thorough background check. Don’t refrain on anything because of my feelings.” 

“You’re a strong man. You can handle anything that I will tell you,” he said to him jokingly, smiling before he walked down the hall towards the kitchen. Bruce slipped back into his living room, glancing at how awkwardly Jonathan was sitting on the couch. He’d finally taken his jacket off, and he was pressed against the corner of the couch. His eyes were stuck on the lit fireplace, as if it was a sight he didn’t see often. 

“Do you happen to get scared easily?” Bruce asked as he sat down beside him. 

Jonathan laughed, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve found it hard to trigger my fear with such silly movies. I merely find them entertaining. I often wonder why some people are so scared of the contents in the movie. … Do you happen to be frightened easily?” he asked. 

“No,” Bruce said with a smile. “I like to laugh at the movies.” 

“Fitting,” Jonathan replied. “From a billionaire’s point of view, movies with low budgets must be quite hilarious.” Of course, he felt the same way. 

“You just do not want to let me win, do you?” Bruce replied, setting his arm on the back of the couch. To his surprise, Jonathan leaned back against it. He kicked his shoe off and drew his leg up to against his chest, hugging his leg. 

“No,” Jonathan whispered. 

Bruce started the movie, and Jonathan started to settle closer and closer to him. Neither of them were very bothered by the contents of the movie. They were also both biting their tongue as they refrained from commenting that they saw horrors worse than the ones on the screen everyday of their lives. 

Towards the end of the movie, Bruce could feel Jonathan pressed up against him. He glanced towards him, catching the other man’s attention as his blue eyes shifted back up to him. 

“Quite cozy?” Bruce whispered. 

“Yes,” Jonathan said, letting out a sigh. Bruce could tell that he was fighting the urge to argue about it. 

He drew him closer, resting his head against his. “Did you like the movie?” he asked him. 

“It was awful,” Jonathan answered him. “Did you enjoy it?” 

“I hated it,” Bruce grinned. 

“While I despised that horrid movie, I did enjoy dinner when it was brought in,” Jonathan told him softly. “Alfred’s a lovely cook. Much better than that place you dragged me to lunch.” 

Bruce rolled his eyes playfully, picking his head up slightly to look at Jonathan. The other man shifted as well, meeting his eyes momentarily before the billionaire’s eyes scanned him up and down. “You’re right,” he replied. “I think McDonald’s would have been a little too high class for you, even. What was I thinking?” he joked. 

Jonathan’s eyes widened momentarily, but it was mere seconds before they softened, a grin on his lips. “You’re the worst person I’ve met in my entire life.” 

“I feel as if you’re enjoying it.” 

“Don’t count on it,” Jonathan whispered back. He reached up, cupping his cheek in his hand. “I still think you’re horrible.” 

Bruce’s face moved closer to Jonathan’s, and the doctor stayed still. His shoulders rose in anticipation, which Bruce placed his hands on them in an attempt to draw him closer. It was almost as if they were meant to be in this position. Bruce could feel Jonathan’s warm breath on his lips as he moved near him. 

They paused as they heard a noise growing louder between the two of them. Jonathan’s face fell as he pulled away from him, a groan escaping his lips. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, looking to see who was calling him. 

“Is that Waltz of the Flowers?” Bruce asked him softly as Jonathan hung up on the call. 

“Yes,” Jonathan said softly, putting his phone back in his pocket. 

“I wouldn’t have taken you as the kind of man to have that as your ringtone,” Bruce laughed, pulling out his own phone. 

“What? Do you expect me to have heavy metal or hip hop?” Jonathan joked quietly. He cursed softly as he heard his phone going off again and pulled it out of his pocket, his brow furrowing as he saw it was Bruce’s number. Before he had the chance to hang up on the call, he was pulled to his feet, face to face with Bruce. The elder man’s hand was on his hip, his hand in his. “You want to dance to my ringtone?” he whispered as he followed Bruce’s steps. “I would expect you have your own orchestra somewhere in this manor.” 

“That would kill the moment,” Bruce said, looking down at Jonathan momentarily before he set his focus back on his blue eyes. “I didn’t think you would know how to Waltz.” 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Jonathan told him gently. “I was taught by my grandmother when I was young.”

“Charming,” Bruce whispered. 

“Hardly.” 

“Do you enjoy the theater, Bruce?” Jonathan asked him softly. 

“I’m acquainted with it, I’ll tell you that,” Bruce said, glancing down at him as they moved. 

“... Does it strike fear in you?” the doctor whispered, making Bruce sigh. 

“Are you trying to advance your profession?” he joked in reply, which made Jonathan relax. He rested his head against Bruce’s shoulder, listening to the tinny speaker. 

As the music died, so did their movements. Bruce’s lips pressed against Jonathan’s, stopping the doctor in his tracks completely. Jonathan smiled against his lips, but instead of drawing closer to him, he stepped backwards. 

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked him softly. 

“The agreement was dinner and a movie. That is what you shall get,” Jonathan said softly, walking towards the couch to pick up his phone. There was now a minute long voicemail in his notifications. He slipped it into his pocket, and he looked back at him. “I’m going to head home now.” 

“What will it take to convince you to stay longer?” Bruce asked, his face falling. 

Jonathan shook his head slightly, starting towards the door. “I won’t be staying no matter how hard you beg me.” 

Bruce’s lips curled into a smile at the comment. “Could it be that you’re afraid to stay any longer with me?” 

“Oh, dear, Bruce…” Jonathan whispered as he opened the door to the hallway. “I so desperately wish that were the case.” 

Soon after Jonathan had left, Bruce had wandered into the kitchen to drop off dishes from earlier that night. He sighed as he noticed Alfred preparing for dessert that night and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Just one for tonight,” he told him quietly. 

“Did the doctor leave so early?” Alfred asked as he worked on the tart he was making. 

“He kissed me then ditched,” Bruce whispered reluctantly, sitting on one of the stools around the counter. “Left his patient sick and waiting.”

“Perhaps that is for the better… I found quite a lot of information about him from just a basic search,” Alfred said.

“Is that supposed to cheer me up?” Bruce sighed heavily, looking up at him with a nervous expression. “... Would Batman like to know?”

“I believe so,” Alfred said. “I think Master Wayne will be able to make a decision on what he wants to do though. Would you like to hear?”

“Ready now than ever,” he told him. 

“Doctor Jonathan Crane,” Alfred said, setting what he was working on aside to lean against the counter. Bruce looked up at him, cocking his brows as he saw the sympathetic look on his face. “He’s a very well educated man. I discovered that he was born to an unmarried mother and ended up living with his grandmother. I do not entirely know of the conditions of his childhood, but it did not seem as if it was ideal. He was a professor briefly, until he conducted an experiment on a young girl that led to her suicide. He lost his job there, and that was when he discovered the job at Arkham.”

“And he conducts experiments on the prisoners,” Bruce said quietly. 

“Were you aware of this?” Alfred asked curiously.

“I heard there were experiments done to inmates as Batman. I didn’t realize it was him until I heard about the girl,” Bruce said quietly, taking the glass of water Alfred offered him. “...Shit, Alfred… I actually like this guy. I don’t know what to do, but even as I’m hearing this, I don’t want to give up on him…”

“Bruce Wayne doesn’t need to give up on him,” Alfred said through thin lips. “I cannot say I’ll endorse this relationship, but I won’t do anything to stop it. I believe it’s going to be necessary for Batman to take action, though… He needs to keep that in mind.”

“Thanks for understanding my position,” Bruce said softly, pushing the glass aside and standing up from the stool. “I’ll be in the den.”

“Very well, sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

The more Bruce found out about Jonathan, the more interested he became in him. The doctor was clearly a figure that he should only meet while masked, and the fucker couldn’t leave his mind for a moment. He couldn’t even shake him off when he wasn’t tied to his computer, trying to understand what he was doing. 

He should have been wary of him. He was able to quickly understand his plan with the prisoners. Shut them up and keep them quiet about the dirt they had against him. In the end, Bruce sure as hell wasn’t surprised to find out that Jonathan was the ‘Scarecrow’ that was terrorizing Gotham. 

Bruce found himself drawn to this man. What was it about him? Was it his eyes? … Or perhaps was it that opposites attract?

“I came to see Jonathan Crane,” he told the receptionist at Arkham. She flashed him a googly eyed smile and nodded, pointing down towards the hall. 

“He should be free to talk, Mr. Wayne,” she said as he walked down the hall. 

Bruce barely knocked before he stepped inside the office, his eyes scanning the worn down wallpaper before they settled on who he had meant to see. 

“Bruce?” Jonathan muttered, setting down the paper he had been scanning. “It’s been over a week…” Puzzled at first, then the grin settled on his face. “Do tell me it’s positive news regarding the donations to Arkham.”

“No way in hell am I donating to Arkham,” Bruce laughed, stepping closer to him. Not to his freak show, that was for sure. He knew that that funding would go into poor hands if he gave it to him. 

“You sure didn’t want to see me,” Jonathan said through pursed lips, adjusting his glasses.“You missed the three day deadline.”

“Something came up,” Bruce said, realizing how cliche that sounded. He didn't have nights free very often, balancing Batman and Bruce Wayne. 

“Did it now?” Jonathan smirked, twisting the excuse around.

“I was under the assumption that you weren’t a completely filthy man,” the billionaire laughed, making Jonathan shake his head. 

“I don’t remember once saying that I was ‘pure’ or anything of that matter, if that’s how you interpreted it. I merely said I joined you for dinner and a movie, nothing more,” he said with both his eyebrows raised. 

“And nothing more you got,” Bruce said. “I came to ask you to dinn-” 

“I know,” Jonathan interrupted, rolling his eyes slightly. “I _assumed_ once you so graciously informed that you weren’t going to consider donating to Arkham. I don’t want to go to dinner with you, Bruce.” 

Bruce’s eyes narrowed at the statement. How cruel for him to reject him so quickly. “I see… and why may that be?” 

The doctor tilted his head, the grin returning to his full lips. “As a matter of fact, I have a different proposal.” 

Bruce mimicked the smirk that was on Jonathan’s face, stepping closer. “What may that be?” he teased. 

“My place,” Jonathan suggested, licking his lips ever so slightly. “Take the Prince of Gotham outside of his natural habitat. Oh, and dare I say… we might even order take out food?” 

“I might have to agree to this,” Bruce said, feigning contemplation. “What time were you thinking?” 

“Six thirty,” Jonathan said, leaning back in his chair. 

“You’ve got me. I’ll be there,” Bruce said, leaning against Jonathan’s desk. He bent closer, and the doctor complied, giving him just as he asked for. His lips touched Bruce's as his eyes fluttered shut, remaining in his spot for a moment before the playboy pulled away from him with a snicker. “I'll see you then, Crane.” 

“Jonathan,” he whispered breathlessly. “I'll allow it.” 

“Jonathan,” Bruce repeated, kissing his lips yet again while he was able. “I'll see you tonight, Jonathan.” 

Bruce was more than confident that Jonathan wouldn’t do anything to hurt Bruce Wayne. There was no reason for him to. There were steps to his plan that Batman knew hadn’t been completed yet, and if Jonathan had ill intentions for the biggest face in Gotham, it could easily throw it all aside. Bruce also recognized that maybe this train of thought was him believing that Jonathan’s interest in him was genuine. That was doubtful… but he wanted to believe it to be true. 

Jonathan had dropped all of the ‘professionalism’ with Bruce, and he was well aware of it the moment the shorter man answered the door. With a cheeky grin, he leaned against the doorframe in his pajamas. Worn down button up pajamas shirt and matching pants. His hair was wet as well, and Bruce deducted he had just gotten out of the shower. 

“Come in,” he said, stepping back from the door, making Bruce cock a brow. 

“You look nice,” he teased him as he walked inside the apartment. 

He took a moment to evaluate the state of his apartment. The paint on the walls were water stained and the paint was peeling. The floors were damaged with cigarette burns, and they seemed as those they used to be decorated with carpeting that was pulled up. The door led to the livingroom, and the kitchen was crammed in the corner. Jonathan’s television was angled to be seen by the kitchen, and the couch was pushed against the counter. The apartment was small. There wasn't more than two rooms, excluding the the bathroom. The bedroom door was right beside the kitchen, and Bruce assumed the bathroom was connected to the bedroom. 

Despite these quirks, it was incredibly clean. Bruce assumed the stains were from the tenant before Jonathan, because everything about the apartment was neat. Jonathan also definitely did not taste like cigarettes. Blankets were folded on the couch, newspapers were stacked on the dining room table without a single one out of place, and dishes were put all in their proper place in the kitchen. Foolishly, Bruce had believed that the apartment would be a wreck. 

“Do you have a butler?” he joked to Jonathan, who was walking towards the couch to sit down. 

“Oh yes,” he answered sarcastically as he moved a pillow to the other side of the couch before he sat down. “I can definitely afford to have another person clean for me.” 

“You do a good job of making this place look nice,” Bruce said, walking over to the couch. He gestured to the seat, and Jonathan realized he was asking to sit down. He thought for a moment before setting the pillows on the back of the couch, and Bruce took the seat that was now available. 

“I don’t like clutter,” Jonathan whispered. “And I dislike the feeling of mess underneath my feet.” He reached over to Bruce and began to undo his tie, making the billionaire laugh. 

“So eager?” he asked. 

“No,” Jonathan told him, pulling his tie off. He folded it and set it on the coffee table, then turned back at him. “You just look silly sitting in _my_ apartment in a full suit, Bruce. Now that you’re here, I’ll order food.” He stood up from the couch, taking Bruce’s jacket from him before he walked to the closet by the door. “What do you want?” 

“I’m not picky. Whatever you wanna do,” Bruce said with a smile. 

“Sure,” Jonathan said, rolling his eyes slightly. He walked to a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out a menu, dialing a number on his phone. 

While Jonathan was busy on the phone, Bruce let his eyes scan the titles of the books and movies. On the coffee table, there was a magazine on psychology. Underneath the television, there was a collection of DVDs, including the Shining and the Sixth Sense. There was also a bookshelf above the television that contained medical textbooks, most of them about the concept of fear. 

Going into a man’s house revealed more about him than one would like to admit, and Jonathan failed to hide something that he shouldn’t have been able to find on the second date. Underneath the lamp on the table beside the couch, there was a bowl of an array of pills. He was positive they were Jonathan’s own medication, and there was a post it note beside it in his horrible handwriting. Even if it wasn’t illegal for a doctor to prescribe himself medication, it couldn’t have been good. 

“What is that?” he asked Jonathan as he sat back down on the couch. The doctor glanced over at the bowl, shrugging his shoulders slightly. Obviously, he didn’t mean to hide the medication. This was also something that it wouldn’t be weird for Bruce Wayne to ask he thought, since it was sitting right in front of him. 

“A few things,” he said, scooting closer to Bruce. 

“Is that appropriate?” Bruce asked, furrowing his brow. 

“I don’t really care. You're killing my mood,” Jonathan said, pursing his lips. “You’re the only one who’s been in my apartment. Why, do you have pharmacophobia?” 

“Why do you insist on trying to diagnose me while we’re on a date?” Bruce asked with a sigh. 

“It’s just medication. I’m the only one consuming it,” he told him softly. 

“What is it used for, though?” Bruce asked, leaning closer to him as if he was trying to get a rouse. Treating him like a criminal. 

Jonathan sighed, pushing away slightly. “You don’t need to intimidate me. Just ask me questions nicely,” he told him softly. “A few things. Simple things. Depression, stress, exhaustion, and-”

“... And?” Bruce asked, leaning back. 

Jonathan looked unsure of how to answer the question. He thought for a moment, then muttered, “Chiroptophobia” 

A fear of bats. It was obvious to Bruce that he was trying to hide what he actually meant, but he was saying that to the wrong person. Perhaps they weren’t too different. Bruce let out a soft sigh. Batman wanted to pry, but Bruce tried to remind himself that it was normal for Jonathan to hear about the Bat in his profession. This wasn’t a tie that required a call to action. This was a _date_.

“I didn’t realize you were scared of anything,” he muttered. 

“I’m not,” Jonathan said, understanding that Bruce knew what that meant. “I don’t have irrational fears… I’m sorry, I’m not a big fan of telling people about this…”

“It’s okay,” Bruce told him quietly. “I’m terrified of bats.” 

Jonathan’s face softened, a smile growing on his lips. He pulled his glasses off his face and set them on the coffee table. “The Prince of Gotham has a fear of bats…” 

“You’re out of line to tease me about this,” Bruce laughed, making Jonathan snicker. The doctor pulled him closer, pressing his lips against the billionaire’s gently. 

“I’ll tease you if I so damn well please,” he said softly before he kissed him again. 

Bruce hated that being in contact with Jonathan made him shiver and sweat the way he did. There was no plausible reason for him to feel so attached to a criminal, yet as he sat beside him, he never wanted to leave. If he could stay this close to him for as long as he lived, he wouldn’t mind. 

“Bruce,” Jonathan said quietly, looking up at him. The elder man furrowed his brow, directing his attention back to what the doctor was saying to him. “I don’t understand what you’re looking for. You’re Gotham’s infamous playboy. You don’t contact me for a week, and I felt like a dodge a bullet, but now you’re here, and-” 

“You’re looking for labels?” Bruce asked, making the color in Jonathan’s face drain. 

“No,” he said softly. “I’m not looking for _labels_. I just want to know if I should waste my time thinking about you.”

A smile crept onto Bruce’s lips. “You think about me?”

“Not yet,” Jonathan said quickly. 

Bruce sighed. He understood what Jonathan was talking about, although he was forced to keep him at an arm’s length because of their situation. He ran a hand through the younger man’s now dry hair and pressed his forehead against his. 

“Waste your time thinking about me, because I don’t think this is going to be the last you’ll see of me,” he said with a smile. 

“That means you can’t get me out of your mind,” Jonathan quickly tried to recover, closing his eyes. 

It would have made sense for Bruce to only contact him for a quick fling. Jonathan had spent his entire life believing that he wasn’t worthy of anything more. Though, here the Prince of Gotham was, insisting that he seemed to have felt something between them. Jonathan didn't know if he liked this. 

He felt Bruce shift, but Jonathan pulled his head away from him before he could kiss him again. The taller man’s face fell slightly, but Jonathan caught it before he could say anything. “You can wait until the food gets here,” he told him. 

“Jonathan, it feels like you’re pulling away each time you and I get too close,” Bruce spoke softly, leaning against the couch. “You dashed last week before anything even happened.” 

“What’s your point?” Jonathan asked him softly, reaching back to the coffee table to pick up his glasses. 

“Are you scared of… becoming too intimate with me?” he asked him with an unsure tone. 

Jonathan’s lips curled at the question. He turned his head, cocking his head slightly. This wasn’t the reaction Bruce expected from him. “... I currently have one fear, and one fear only,” he explained to him. “I'm no longer that weak little boy. My fears are also _not_ a weakness, and I dislike someone evaluating them as so. For you to assume I’m scared of being close to you… If you knew me any better, I would be offended.” 

“Jonathan-” 

The smaller man shook his head slightly. “No. I’m not scared of being close to you. In fact, I’m far too comfortable with you. Something about the way you seem to dote over me… I don’t have any worries about our potential relationship. Although, if I remain too close to you, I might have thoughts to disrupt this. I wanted to use tonight as a tester on if I felt this was worthy of continuing.”

“You feel as though when something’s going _right_ , you need to end it?” Bruce tried to clarify. 

“Similar to that,” Jonathan said softly. “You’re a kind man, Bruce. I wish I had fears of being with you.” 

If only he had any idea, Bruce thought to himself. Alfred would be pleased to know that Jonathan was keeping him at an arm's length. 

He relaxed his shoulders, glancing over at Jonathan. Jokingly he whispered, “so you don’t want to sleep with me?” 

The doctor grinned at him and cocked a brow. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he replied. 

It wasn’t long before Jonathan was summoned downstairs to pick up the food. Sitting on the couch with their warm food, they came to a mutual consensus to watch a movie. Albeit, a terrible one as usual. 

The food wasn’t what Bruce would have typically ordered, although he was well aware that Jonathan had done that intentionally. It wasn’t terrible, he noted to himself. As they finished eating, Jonathan settled his head on the other man’s shoulder, eyes glued on the television screen in front of him. 

“I wonder what the media would think of Bruce Wayne sitting in my apartment,” he said softly. 

“Probably that Bruce Wayne has terrible taste,” the billionaire replied, making the doctor grin. 

“No, I believe it would lead with the headline, ‘Doctor Jonathan Crane Makes A Mistake’,” he replied. 

“Well, has he?” Bruce asked. 

“I don’t know,” Jonathan replied with that cheeky smirk. “Would you like to find out?” 

Both of Bruce’s questions were answered before long. They were answered a few times, as a matter of fact. Thus, at one in the morning, he was rushing down the apartment stairs and down to his car that was parked on the street. He checked himself a few times in the mirror before he finally drove home to Alfred. 

“Master Wayne,” the butler noted as he tried to sneak through the backdoor. He was sitting on one of the couches, a book in hand. “I thought that that the Bat had some duties lined up tonight.” 

Bruce’s head filled with curse words. He had decided against using the Batcave for reasons unbeknownst to him. He wasn’t expecting Alfred to stay up so late without a request from him, though. Desperately, he tried to remind himself that he had been awake due to worry. 

“I finished early,” he tried to lie his way out of the situation. 

“Clearly. Your zipper’s all the way down,” Alfred muttered before returning to his book. 

“Shit,” Bruce whispered to himself, fixing his zipper hesitantly. “If it’s any consolation, I think that was the last of our little fling.” 

“You’re your own person, Master Wayne. I cannot control who you spend your time with,” Alfred said softly. “Is Batman going out tonight?” 

Bruce pursed his lips slightly, slowly nodding his head. Yes, it was a little late for Batman to start his patrol, but better late than never. “I’ll speak with you later,” he told him before walking towards the closet that contained the ‘fine china’.


	3. Chapter 3

“Please don’t call me again, Bruce.”

The last thing Jonathan muttered to him as they concluded their little date. It should have been more of a surprise, but Bruce had been in Jonathan’s position before. Faking a smile, he continued with his night. 

Jonathan had no intentions on picking up where he left off with Bruce, that was obvious. Although, there was still unfinished business with Batman. It was only a few days until everything was set in place. While on patrol, he was merely one of the criminals who had to be wiped off the street. 

Batman has no mercy, he reminded himself as he gassed the fucker. The past was the past, and while Bruce Wayne would have been torn between avenging Rachel Dawes or turning a blind eye for the man he was infatuated with, Batman knew the clear answer. 

It couldn’t have been his fault that he lost his mind, Bruce told himself for days. Even with the proper protections, the gas could have infected him as he was preparing it.   
Stuck in Arkham, escaping from Arkham. Scarecrow really had a mind of his own. 

Thankfully, Jonathan Crane had access to a fine lawyer. He was always thrown back inside, but it was kept hush hush. The public wouldn’t be aware of the danger they were in. Ugh, not a soul could stay in Arkham, could they? 

It was over between them, Bruce constantly told himself. Whatever they had in the past is no longer there. What was Bruce supposed to do? Politely request the guards leave him alone with the criminally insane man? No, it wouldn’t work on so many levels. Batman was pleased with apprehending a criminal, but Bruce Wayne was not. He missed that connection he had. The snarky remarks. Although, Jonathan wasn’t interested in him anymore even with being out of prison. 

“A visitor at this hour?” he muttered as he crammed his bagel in his mouth. Only breakfast and someone was ringing the doorbell. 

“Master Wayne, please excuse my attitude, but it is, in fact, two in the afternoon,” Alfred said with a smile before he walked away from the kitchen. 

“Let me speak with Bruce, please,” he could hear from the long hall, raising his attention. 

“Criminals of your sort are not welcome in the Wayne Manor,” Alfred replied. That was it- Bruce was rushing down the hall. 

As he … thought? No, he didn’t predict this. 

“Jonathan,” he said, stepping in front of his unhappy butler. “What are you doing here?” 

The brunette glanced up at him, pushing his glasses up slightly as he let out a sigh. He looked awful. His glasses were crooked, and one of the arms was hastily tapped in place. He was wearing a suit, but it had seen better days. It was a size too big on him, and it was close to being covered in holes. … Not that much different than his normal attire. He was holding a suitcase, but Alfred had decided to take it if he was going to be so close to the man he was in charge of. 

“I wanted to talk to you, Bruce…” Jonathan said, turning his attention entirely to the taller man. He didn’t seem very happy about Alfred taking his suitcase, but he wasn’t arguing with him. He stepped closer to him, lowering his voice. “I didn’t exactly get a chance to speak with you since an incident a few weeks prior. Now, may we please close the door at least?” 

Bruce glanced at Alfred, and Alfred’s gaze told him it would be most unbearable. Ignoring the gaze, he pulled him inside and closed the door after him. Paranoia- reasonable.   
Bruce pursed his lips slightly before he began to drag Jonathan away from Alfred to the entertainment room. He knew his butler was less than happy, but Bruce found comfort in having the maniac beside him. As he was about to place him on the couch, Jonathan reached out to his face, crushing their lips together. 

“Bruce,” he whispered quietly, nuzzling up against him as the taller man sat down. Even though he was on the run, Bruce noted that he smelled clean. Ironic that such a neat man would take the facade of one of the messiest fabrics, burlap, he thought to himself. “I know you may not understand the things I did-” 

“That doesn't even begin where I am at,” he replied monotonously. 

“Despite this, I honest to God missed you,” the man whispered, resting his head on his shoulder. Bruce could feel him shaking. “My gas- it's good for something. It tells you what you should hold close. I keep having pictures in my head… you- gone- dead. My heart races and my eyes well up.” He picked his head up slightly, gently brushing his thumb against Bruce's cheek. “I'm not sorry for Scarecrow’s actions, but I am sorry for the way _I_ treated you. I shouldn't have pushed you away.” 

“What's done is done,” the billionaire forced out. 

“Forgive me for Jonathan Crane’s actions,” he pleaded quietly. “I miss you, Bruce. I wanted to be here with you, holding you, so badly…” 

Bruce let out a deep sigh, wrapping both arms around him in response. “I won't forget what you did, but I've long since forgiven you….”

Jonathan rested his head against his chest, closing his eyes at the gesture. “So it’s true that the Wayne family will do all they can to help those less fortunate,” he whispered, hugging him back in response. Bruce decided it was going to be best to just ignore that comment. “I really hope they don’t come for me.” 

“Don’t worry. You’re in Wayne custody in the meantime. They won't be able to do a thing without my permission,” Bruce told him softly. 

“I have so much to do,” Jonathan muttered, letting go of Bruce slowly. “So much.” He sighed heavily, looking at him before looking away. “I can't stay here forever. I want to- I want to- but no. Joker took my toxin. I need to get it back before he begins to real havoc on the city.” 

“When did Joker get your toxin?” Bruce asked quickly, feeling himself grow on edge. This was news to both him and Batman. 

Jonathan's brow furrowed. “Why is this of such interest to _you?_ ” He pursed his lips, folding his arms as he tried to recall. “Early morning on Tuesday- two days ago. He stole it from my lab. How he found it, I'll never know, but now its ransacked.” 

“Are you going to try to get it back?” Bruce asked him. 

Jonathan let out a laugh. “I did, Bruce. I did try! Tried as hard as I damn well could. Even Riddler was assisting me with the task, but we ran out of time. I'm almost positive he's been doing something with it. What I have been working on are the tools to combat my toxin. A cure, maybe, but something more widespread. Akin to a gas as well to fill in areas that have been affected.” 

Riddler was back, Bruce thought to himself. He shouldn't be surprised. He wasn't going to be able to wipe away that green menace so easily. Why was he helping Jonathan, though? This wasn't something for Bruce to ask. 

“You want to make something to nullify your toxin? Haven't the GCPD already come across something like that?” 

“You've done your research,” Jonathan commented. “Did you miss me that much?” He shook his head slightly. “This is something different. I tweaked my original toxin. This is more powerful- someone affected won't be able to distinguish their hand from spider- I mean, if that's what they fear. Nevertheless, I have plenty to work on....” 

“I have a lab in my manor,” Bruce said quickly. “If you're wishing to find the treatment, that is.” 

“I won't have time. I'll be found here and arrested.” 

“Never underestimate Bruce Wayne,” the billionaire told him. “Didn't I say you'd be okay here?”

Jonathan flashed him a slight grin before muttering, “Why take this responsibility on yourself, Bruce? Isn't that the job of the Batman?” 

“Sometimes things need to be taken in your own hands,” Bruce said softly, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “We can't have-” 

“No,” Jonathan interrupted, a flash in his eyes. “I can't keep up pretending…” 

“Pretending what?” Bruce questioned, his brows knitting together with worry. To like him? That he had a second chance?

Jonathan pursed his lips slightly, tilting his head as he thought. “I know your secret. Don't try and hide it from me- I'm a fucking psychiatrist. I know you're the bastard who gassed me. I know why you want to find a cure for the toxins. I know fully well you're the reason I was in Arkham to begin with.” Bruce felt himself going pale. Even without saying it, he knew exactly what Jonathan was saying he was. “Even so, I'm sitting here with you. I could run and tell everyone who you are… I could. Although, I'm not.” 

“How can I trust you?” Bruce whispered. 

“I haven't yet,” Jonathan said, his eyes narrowing. “I could have. After that night we shared together, the moment I saw the Bat, I knew who it was. Your cuts and bruises as Bruce… The way that Bat held himself… I'm not stupid. I can see it in your eyes as we're talking too. You're interested in everything- no, Bruce Wayne isn't interested. The Batman is interested.” 

“Why did you come back then?” Bruce asked, shifting away from him. 

Jonathan let out a snort, shaking his head and pulling his glasses off to clean them. A long sigh could be heard. “You're a dummy when it comes to emotions… I like you. A lot. I like you so much that I'm willing to come here and help the last person I should ever help in my life. I want to… I came here specifically to seek your assistance in taking down Joker, because it will benefit the both of us. I knew if I brought it up, you'd offer something…” He licked his lips slightly. “I want to take your offer of help. In exchange, I can be of use to the Batman. I have knowledge that I know even the World's Greatest Detective won't have from years of studying. I have extensive knowledge in the fields of chemistry and psychology… I will stay mum about your identity.” 

“In exchange for what?” Bruce muttered. 

Jonathan glanced at him before looking at his lap. “A few things. I want you to create amnesty for the Riddler in the meantime, because of his assistance in taking down Joker.” 

“I can set up guidelines,” he agreed. He never said what the guidelines were, but he could tell that Jonathan knew this by the look of his eyes. Nevertheless, he carried on. 

“And I want protection for myself. I do not want to be in the public, I want to be hidden… I've upset too many people to be out there. Ivy wants me dead, Clayface isn't very happy with me…” He fell silent for a moment before whispering, “I also want to just be close to you.” 

Bruce's face fell slightly at the frown on Jonathan's face. He almost felt bad for interrogating him. He shifted closer to him, resting his head on his shoulder. “I can provide you protection,” he said before he kissed his cheek. Jonathan let out a sigh, looking back down at him. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

Bruce was able to keep his word with Jonathan. Alfred wasn’t very ecstatic when he discovered that Scarecrow knew Batman’s secret identity, but he calmly accepted that it was Bruce’s decision what he did. If this kept him happy for once in his life, he could look past it. 

Ever the unique building in Wayne Manor, Jonathan had a hidden bedroom in the building. Bruce was apprehensive about keeping him in that room, but he insisted it would keep him safer. It wasn’t like he was in it very often, anyways. He would commonly stay with Bruce in his room, or he would accidentally fall asleep in the living room… or the Batcave, whilst working on solutions in response to the Joker’s plan. It was strange to be assisting such a notorious criminal, but it worked for them. It felt natural to work with him. 

For once in a long time, Bruce felt genuine happiness to be able to be with someone he cared about so much.


End file.
